


and when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god

by graveExcitement



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveExcitement/pseuds/graveExcitement
Summary: Elias' new Archivist passed out upon finishing his very first statement.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 32
Kudos: 182
Collections: Fic In A Box





	and when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> _aristocrat  
>  tip your hat  
> and break your mother's heart  
> and when the sun comes up  
> you'll find a brand new god_  
> —I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, "[Leave Me Alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwpnuaBoKPU)"

Elias' new Archivist passed out upon finishing his very first statement.

He had been watching Jon with no small amount of anticipation. It had been decades since he'd broken in a new Archivist, and he had thought he'd made a good choice with this one up until he passed out. The odd thing was that beforehand, Jon hadn't seemed that poorly affected, to Elias' eye; shaken, maybe (and hiding it admirably); tired, certainly; but he had described the follow-up research his team had done with no sign of imminent collapse. Then he had said, "End recording," pressed stop, and crumpled over the desk.

Elias watched, concerned. This was a rather extreme reaction to his first statement, and if Jon couldn’t handle the statements he certainly wouldn’t survive being marked. Had he made a mistake? There was nothing he could do about it now, if so. It was too soon to remove a second Archivist. He would have to watch and wait, which luckily he excelled at. 

Minutes ticked by. Jon lay slumped, motionless, over the desk, but Elias could See the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He checked on the Assistants — good, none appeared to think anything was amiss. He’d much prefer to watch Jon without them interfering and calling the paramedics.

He could tell when, several minutes later, his Archivist woke. Muscles tensed that had been relaxed. Hands and feet moved slightly — testing freedom of movement? Jon laid there for a minute before finally moving to sit up. One hand went to his back, no doubt aching, and the other clenched idly. Then Jon bolted upright and held both hands in front of his face, eyes wide. Elias watched with interest as he stared at his hands, then began tracing his fingers over his palm reverently. What fascinated him so, Elias had no idea.

Jon's hands next went to his throat, then his face, fingers roving over skin and mapping something Elias couldn't decipher. Finally, his hands dropped to the desk and picked up the papers he'd collapsed upon, smoothing them out and aligning them. His gaze dropped to the statement. "The Anglerfish," he murmured, the first words he'd spoken since he woke. Abruptly, he began to pat himself down, checking his pockets for something. Probably his phone, Elias guessed; it was in the pocket of Jon's abandoned blazer. This proved correct a minute later, but when Jon turned his phone on, he didn't do anything with it, just stared down at the lock screen.

Then he began to laugh, bordering on hysteria, and Elias had no idea why. He... didn't Know, and that realization made his breath catch. He would have Known, before. _What had happened to Jonathan Sims?_

Jon jerked upright, looked Elias in the eye, and stared, his former hysteria replaced with an intensity Elias had never seen from him before. He stared for long minutes, until even Elias’ eyes were watering, and then, without breaking eye contact, he stood up and walked out from his office without a word. His assistants tried to ask him questions, but he ignored them all and ascended the stairs out of the Archives. Elias watched as Jon unmistakably stalked towards his own office. The power Jon clearly held was as dangerous as it was inexplicable. He could not have Become so quickly, and yet he had maintained eye contact with Elias ever since that moment Elias had grasped to Know him and failed. 

Soon, Jon stepped into his office, ignoring Elias’ receptionist’s faltering attempt to ask if he had an appointment, and closed the door behind him. He settled into the seat across from Elias, his stare as unyielding as ever.

Elias waited for a minute, to see if he would speak unprompted, then decided to give in with good grace. He was a generous man; if Jon wanted him to crack first, he would oblige. “What brings you to my office, Jon?”

Jon’s stare bored into him. He felt as though every fiber of his being was being examined, one at time, but he hadn’t served Beholding this long to be put off by such a thing.

Finally, his Archivist spoke, and what he said took his breath away. "Statement of Jonah Magnus, king of a ruined world. Statement begins.

The first thing you’ll be wondering is: did it work? Yes. Yes, it did, and beautifully so. My Archive, marked one by one, brought all fourteen Powers into the world, with the Ceaseless Watcher at the apex. I doomed the world, and it was glorious.

For a time.

If all goes to plan, this secondhand account will be all you get to see of my nightmare kingdom, so I will offer a taste, that you might experience it vicariously. The combined terror of nearly eight billion people suffused the very atmosphere; it was delectable, as I’m sure Jon can tell you. All thrown into their own personal nightmares, and I watched it all. The other Powers’ servants had their fun, of course, gorging themselves on more terror than they’d ever seen in their long lives. But they, too, feared It Knows You, feared having the full weight of its gaze turn to them. 

I beheld it all from the Panopticon. The fear those prisoners felt in my first Watcher’s Crown was but a drop in the ocean in comparison. I watched as the world lived and breathed unimaginable nightmares, and reveled in their fear that someone was watching them suffer. And of course, I was. I had never felt so close to my god before the Change.

I watched as Jon, now a fully fledged Archive, toured the wasteland, with Martin at his side. Their power afforded them safety from the torment; they were Watchers, after all. It was amusing, at first, watching them try to make their way to me, in the vain hope that killing me would do anything at all. The Archive would stop, every now and then, to chronicle the terror of the domains it passed through. And that’s when I noticed something disquieting.

I was closer to Beholding than ever before, and I realized, as Jon and Martin made their pointless journey, that the Eye was, unbelievably, growing bored of its kingdom. Jon once mentioned, I think, that as a child he hated to read any book that felt like one he’d read before, and the Eye was the same. Its Archive would stand in a domain, record its nightmares, and move on, and Beholding would grow bored of watching those particular nightmares. As tied to Beholding as I was, I too lost interest in them, and I began to wonder, if the Archive chronicled every one of this world’s horrors, would the Eye close?

But there was another way the Eye would close forever, and it was not an ‘if.’ I did not have the luxury of picking and choosing which Powers came through; that was rather the point. As such, I was forced to invite Terminus into my new kingdom. It’s an ancient fear, quite possibly the very first. After all, the first animals to feel fear did so because those that did not, died; from an evolutionary perspective, fear of death was advantageous. If it were not for death, the Powers might not exist at all.

I don’t have to tell you how much I fear and loathe the End, but my Archive was marked by it and invoked it along with all the others. That Power had its domains within the new world, but one thing made it different from the others. You see, in the new playground of fear, the Powers and their servants were free to feast on the terror of all trapped within, and there was no need to waste such delicacies by letting them die. However, Terminus cannot exist without death. If death was not possible, there could be no fear of it; since Terminus existed as surely as the other Powers, death’s existence was necessitated.

Nothing was being born in the new world, but everything in it would die. The End could be delayed, but it would get its due. I would be the last one left alive in my ruined kingdom, and the starving Fears would try to wring me of every last drop of terror before I finally succumbed or the Eye finally closed, whichever came first. 

I had everything I’d ever dreamed of, but it was destined to become my nightmare. At least, if the Watcher didn’t grow bored and turn away first, which seemed more likely with every step the Archive took.

I’m sure you can already guess what happened. The Archive eventually reached the Panopticon, and communed with his god. I gather that he offered to show Beholding something new, if only he could Know how to restore the world. There could, of course, be no restoration. But there could be an unwinding, a rewinding, of the Archive, and reality would be dragged back with it, back to the Archive’s earliest moment.

Then he came to me. It would be a stretch to say he asked for my blessing, but he knew that if he was to avoid a repeat of the Watcher’s Crown, he would need my statement. He’s still marked, you know. I suspect they’re no longer visible on his skin, but the memory of terror is as fresh as ever. You could usher the world into the nightmare kingdom once again. He’d fight you, of course, tooth and nail, kill you if it came down to it. But you’re resourceful, and Jon would hesitate, because his friends’ lives are already tied to you, and convincing them to blind themselves would take time. I think you could do it.

However, the Watcher would be bored by recycled terror, possibly even more than it is now. It’s seen all this before, after all. So it’s even odds whether the ritual would even work. And beyond that, Terminus would eventually leech away your power and safety, as it would have to me. I still have, or would have had, potentially thousands of years of beholding my kingdom, but it’s soured by The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored.

So it’s up to you. On the one hand, your kingdom awaits, and is closer now than it’s ever been. On the other… well, I can’t say I know what Jon has planned. Planning isn’t exactly his strong suit, you know. But he promised Beholding it would be interesting.

Statement ends.”

Silence filled the room. Elias’ head was spinning, from the force of the Statement and the choice he had been presented with. He had tasted his future self’s joy and his fear. Thousands of years of kingship, offered to him on a platter, but the fruit was poisoned twice over; first by the Eye’s picky eating habits, then by the inevitable decay of Terminus. He looked at Jon, his Archive, who returned a steely gaze. According to his future self, all that would stay Jon’s hand was that his Assistants’ lives were on the line. If it weren’t for them, or if Jon were more like Gertrude, he suspected Jon would have simply killed him, rather than given him his Statement and a choice.

Elias leaned forward. “You wanted to reverse the ritual. Is that all your alternative is? A return to the status quo?”

Jon shook his head, scowling. “As much as I would prefer that, I promised the Watcher something new. And while the current state of the world isn’t as stale as it was after the Change, it doesn’t sate the Eye’s curiosity.”

“Something new,” Elias mused. He wasn’t sure if Jon was holding back the details, or if he was being vague because he had no real plan. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had accomplished more with less. He offered a smile. “I’m sure we can figure out something that satisfies all three of us, don’t you think?”

He reached out a hand, and Jon shook it.


End file.
